Chapter 20: The Results
"How have you been, Katsuki?" Izuku asked, turning his head to the left to meet Bakugo's gaze.
They were on the train heading home, the rhythmic clatter of wheels beneath them a familiar backdrop. Jirou and Denki had split off at U.A., while Iida had taken his leave at Musutafu station, citing work that needed his attention. This left Izuku alone with Bakugo, a chance he secretly relished to reconnect with his childhood friend.
"As good as I could be," Bakugo replied, his words lacking their usual fire. Izuku caught a curious glance from him as he slouched in his seat, hands buried deep in his pockets. With that posture and his spiky, unkempt hair, he resembled a delinquent more than a hero-prospect.
Izuku's memories of Bakugo were hazy; it had been ages since they last saw each other. He recalled the loud, boisterous kid who used to challenge and bully anyone and everyone that angered him. Now, seeing Bakugo so subdued made him wonder just how much had changed over the years.
"What about you?" Bakugo asked, casting a sideways glance at Izuku.
Izuku directed a small smile at Bakugo. "As good as I could be," he echoed, earning a chuckle from his friend.
Bakugo turned his gaze to the front, staring out the window opposite his seat. "So, you go to Somei now?" he asked, curiosity lacing his words.
"Yeah, kind of," Izuku replied with a hesitant smile. "I was sort of roped into it."
"I guess private school does suit you," Bakugo said slowly. "You've got a friend, huh?" He took a deep breath.
Izuku understood Bakugo was referring to Iida. "Yeah," he answered, his smile brightening as memories of the blue-haired boy flooded back. "You could say he's my best friend."
Bakugo glanced at Izuku from the corner of his eye before looking straight ahead again. "I see," he muttered softly. "He's kind of uptight."
Izuku chuckled at Bakugo's observation. "Iida... He has some quirks," he said defensively. "But then again, we all have ours, right?"
"I guess you're right," Bakugo replied with a sigh.
"Are you really alright, Katsuki?" Izuku asked, unable to ignore Bakugo's subdued tone any longer. He shot him a worried look. "I would have expected you to be a bit more... loud."
Bakugo chuckled softly, offering Izuku a tight smile. "People change, Izuku. I did too." There was sorrow in his words. "I can see that you've changed as well. You look and sound more confident than I remember."
"Thanks," Izuku replied with a chuckle. "It took a lot of sacrifices to reach this level of confidence." He glanced at Bakugo again. "By the way, I went to your old house four years ago and found out you guys had moved out."
Bakugo turned to face him, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Oh. We moved out about six years ago," he said.
"Why?" Izuku probed gently.
Bakugo shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "We had some issues with the old place."
"Where did you move to?"
"Kyoto," Bakugo answered, "We moved back to our ancestral home." He then glanced at Izuku with curiosity. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure. Go ahead," Izuku replied with a casual shrug.
"Where have you been?" Bakugo asked, studying Izuku intently.
Izuku anticipated that question, and thankfully, he had prepared an answer—a lie he crafted long ago. With an exasperated sigh, he began slowly. "I moved from one orphanage to another for quite some time. For some reason, every place I went to seemed to face tragedy. The last orphanage I was at burned down due to some technical issues. After that, I was adopted by a family but..." He paused, his gaze fixed on the train's floor.
"But...?" Bakugo prompted gently.
With a sigh, Izuku continued, "But they abandoned me soon after. I never knew why. I was ten back then."
"Then how..."
"Did I get here?" Izuku murmured, finishing Bakugo's sentence for him. A bright smile spread across his face. "A kind and beautiful woman took me in."
"You've been adopted, huh?" Bakugo muttered.
Izuku shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "Not exactly," he replied. "She never officially adopted me. I live with her like a roommate."
"That's a weird arrangement," Bakugo pointed out, his expression silently questioning the situation.
"It suits us, to be honest," Izuku said with a knowing smile. "I enjoy the freedom that comes with not being officially adopted, but I still get companionship and shelter."
"And what does your so-called benefactor get?" Bakugo asked skeptically.
"Why? She gets cute ol' me," Izuku replied, playfully placing his index fingers on his cheeks in a mock gesture. "Am I not enough?"
"You've grown weirder," Bakugo pointed out, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Say," Izuku decided to shift the topic. "How are Aunt Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru?"
"The old man's fine," Bakugo answered with a casual shrug. "The old lady…she is…much better, I guess."
Izuku's eyebrows knitted together in a doubtful frown, as if to say 'for real?' "Still calling your parents old man and old lady, huh? Some things never change, I guess."
Izuku rose to his feet. "My stop is here," he said, striding toward the train door.
Bakugo stared at his back and said, "Wanna come by and visit the old lady? She'd be happy for sure."
Izuku's smile faded into a sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry," he replied, sadness creeping into his voice. "I have some work today, and our final exams are on the horizon."
"Ah, understandable," Bakugo said with a nod of comprehension. "So, after we get to U.A., you can visit us, right?"
Izuku smirked. "You're confident you'll get into U.A."
Bakugo shot him a smirk in return. "Of course," he said. "Can't expect anything less from the Future Number One, right?"
The train soon came to a halt at the Tokyo Central station. Izuku stepped out and turned towards Bakugo who had a soft smile on his face and his eyes a bit watery, a sight that confused Izuku.
"Izuku," Bakugo called and the green-haired boy could easily make out the grateful tone in his voice. "I am really glad you're doing fine," he said with a small nod.
Izuku softly smiled back at Bakugo and said, "Thanks. I am glad you're doing fine too."
Bakugo waved goodbye to Izuku as the train's door closed, knowing in his heart that they would reunite again at the place of their dreams.
[One Week after the Entrance Examination]
"So, the results are going to be delivered tomorrow, huh?" Present Mic's voice sliced through the stillness of the room, a lively note that accentuated the calm atmosphere.
Present Mic sat in a large and inviting lounge alongside his fellow teachers—Eraser Head, Midnight, and Cementoss. This cozy space was nestled within the faculty office which spanned an entire floor. This floor was dedicated solely to the teachers of U.A. High School. The layout featured spacious cubicles, each equipped with its own window allowing for fresh air and natural light, as well as ventilation systems that kept everyone comfortable year-round. Teachers could rearrange and decorate their cubicles however they pleased to reflect their personalities. Each of these cubicles would have cost a fortune at the heart of Tokyo.
In the center of this sanctuary lay the lounge where they gathered now—a communal hub surrounded by the individual offices of the teachers and brimming with unique decorations and personal touches from each faculty member. It was here, amidst soft couches and a coffee table strewn with magazines and snacks, that curious anticipation filled the room as they discussed about the candidates' performance in the Entrance Examination.
"I still can't believe that kid performed so well," Power Loader's voice rang out as he stepped into the lounge, his enthusiasm palpable. He made his way to one of the empty couches at the center, positioning himself directly across from a table cluttered with snacks and magazines. Settling in comfortably, he found himself flanked by Ms. Midnight on his left and Eraser Head and Present Mic on his right. Cementoss sat directly opposite him, an attentive presence amidst their discussion.
"There is a difference of nearly two hundred points between the first and second ranks this year," Cementoss remarked casually, taking a thoughtful sip from his cup. "That is way too big of a gap."
"I know, right?" Present Mic jumped in with gusto. "I always thought All Might would hold the record for the most points scored during the Entrance Examination but holy damn! The kid has overtaken All Might's record by ninety-six points."
"Well, in all fairness," Cementoss said as he set down his cup and crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully, "the Entrance Examination during All Might's days was vastly different from what it is now."
"Still, I think we need to give credit where it's due," Snipe chimed in, entering the conversation with an air of enthusiasm. Fresh from his scheduled class with Class 3-B, he took a seat and added, "What that kid has achieved is simply unimaginable and definitely deserves our praise."
"We can't forget about the other two," Power Loader reminded the room. "There are two more students who crossed the 100 point threshold. It is the first time something like this has happened."
"They do say that the next generation of heroes always surpasses their predecessors," Eraser Head interjected, offering his perspective. His remark drew surprised glances from the other teachers, including Midnight.
"Say, Eraser Head," Midnight began playfully, her tone teasing as she leaned forward slightly. "Are you perhaps impressed by this year's performance?"
Eraser Head let out a huff of annoyance. "Not one bit," he grumbled in response, casting his gaze downward at the tablet in his hands that displayed the top ten performers from this year's Entrance Examination.
Rank
Candidate Name
Minor Villain Points
100-Pointer Points
Rescue Points
Grand Total
1.
Izuku Midoriya
107
100
156
363
2.
Tenya Iida
50
0
95
145
3.
Katsuki Bakugo
77
0
58
135
4.
Ejiro Kirishima
43
0
55
98
5.
Ochako Uraraka
25
0
70
95
6.
Itsuka Kendo
38
0
50
88
7.
Ibara Shiozaki
30
0
58
88
8.
Mezo Shoji
30
0
42
72
9.
Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu
32
0
38
60
10.
Fumikage Tokoyami
30
0
19
59
Eraser Head was not one to be easily impressed, a fact known by all his colleagues. Yet even he couldn't deny the staggering amount of raw potential displayed by this year's candidates. The competition among the top ten was fierce; their scores were closely packed, with only the first place standing out significantly. It was impressive though he would never admit it aloud.
"Hey, Midnight," Present Mic called out, directing his attention toward the R-Rated Heroine, who seemed lost in thought as her gaze drifted off to some unseen point in the distance. She sat unusually stiff, barely sipping from the herbal tea cradled in her hands.
"Hmm?" Midnight murmured as she shifted her focus back to him.
"You've been way too quiet for someone whose nephew just made history," Present Mic remarked, concern etched on his face as he studied her expression. "Are you alright?"
Midnight's response came in the form of a melodious laugh that echoed warmly through the room. "I'm alright, Mic. You don't have to worry about me," she said with a soft smile meant to reassure her long-time friend and fellow teacher.
"Say, Midnight," Cementoss interjected, shifting his cement-like body slightly to better engage with Nemuri. "What are you feeding your nephew? How on earth did he manage to score more than three hundred points in the Entrance Examination?"
Midnight shrugged her shoulders with a casual nonchalance. "He's like that," she replied cryptically, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't score more points."
Present Mic's eyebrows knitted together in an exasperated frown, his expression clearly saying 'really?' "You sound like a typical Asian mom right now."
"What exactly is your nephew's quirk?" Power Loader interjected, keenly curious as he stepped into their conversation. "I would have assumed it would be something similar to yours, but I guess I was entirely wrong."
Midnight's lips curled into a playful smirk at the thought. "Ask him when he gets here," she said teasingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Aw~ Come on!" Present Mic whined childishly, throwing up his hands in mock frustration. "Why are you being so cryptic? Is his quirk like All Might's? Something that can't be revealed and all that?"
Midnight giggled softly before responding, "Nothing like that. I just don't want to take the joy from Izuku of revealing his quirk to you guys." Her laughter filled the room with warmth and anticipation.
"You are sadistic," Present Mic moaned dramatically as if the weight of the world rested upon him.
"Well, I AM a sadist," Midnight pointed out haughtily, unable to contain her amusement as she leaned back comfortably in her chair.
Eraser Head tuned out the lively conversation around him, his focus narrowing to the name at the top of the chart: Izuku Midoriya. Midnight had introduced the boy to him and Hizashi five years ago, calling him her nephew. While Hizashi had easily accepted the explanation given by Midnight as to why Izuku was living with her, Aizawa had been a bit more weary. Something just did not sit well with him.
The remarkable feats he had witnessed from the boy during the Entrance Examination flooded his mind, each one sparking a myriad of unspoken questions that clawed relentlessly at his thoughts. There was no denying it; the kid was exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand combat for someone so young.
Each punch and kick he threw showed remarkable precision; there were hardly any missteps or hesitation in his movements. The way Midoriya effortlessly flung robots aside made Eraser Head ponder just how strong he truly was. He recalled Midnight mentioning that the kid had trained in various martial arts, but even that didn't fully explain his flawless execution.
If there was one student who sparked genuine curiosity within him, it was definitely this boy.
Izuku Midoriya, Eraser Head repeated internally as if testing its weight and meaning. I wonder what you really are. Maybe he should have taken some interest in the boy before.
[One day later...]
"And in today's breaking news," the head news anchor announced, his voice steady and engaging, "we bring you some exciting updates that could shape the future."
Izuku Midoriya lounged on the couch in his living room, eyes glued to the television screen. It was Sunday, a welcome break from the rigors of school, and at 10 a.m., he found himself searching for something worth watching. With nothing appealing on at this hour, he settled for the news of all things. It was a habit he had been trying to nurture; after all, as a hero in training, staying informed about current events felt essential. Yet despite his best efforts, he often struggled to endure more than ten minutes of monotone chatter from the anchors.
"Amidst all the chaos," chimed in the supporting anchor with an upbeat tone, "we have some good news! A candidate attending the Entrance Exam for U.A. High School has shattered records by scoring ninety-six points higher than ever before! The previous record holder? None other than All Might himself."
Izuku felt a twitch in the muscles of his face, a reflex he couldn't quite suppress. Who could have leaked this information to the media outlets? After all, each candidate had signed non-disclosure agreements, binding them to silence.
"This is indeed monumental news," the main anchor declared, enthusiasm lacing his words. "For the first time in decades, All Might's score has been surpassed, by such an astonishing margin! However, despite our extensive inquiries, we still don't know who this remarkable candidate is. But at least we can look forward to someone stepping into All Might's shoes."
The anchor's words cut off as Izuku switched the TV off. He let out a soft sigh and allowed a smile to creep across his face. He already knew he had passed the exam with flying colors and had even set a new record for U.A., scoring higher than anyone before him. The weight of that knowledge filled him with hope; he was one step closer to making things right. One step closer to pay for all the blood that stained his hands. He reached for the remote and turned off the television.
Soft footsteps brushed against the floor, drawing Izuku's attention. He turned his head and glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Nemuri entering the living room, her gaze fixed on something she held tightly in her right hand. With a playful grin lighting up her face, she approached the couch where he sat and leaned against its backrest. She then extended her hand toward him, revealing a letter that seemed to shimmer with excitement.
"For you," she said, barely able to contain her excitement.
Izuku's curiosity ignited as he accepted the letter from her grasp, feeling its weight press into his palm. It was heavier than he had anticipated. Flipping it over, his eyes widened at the sight of U.A., glistening in golden glitter across the envelope's surface. A sudden gulp caught in his throat as an unexpected rush of nervousness coursed through him. He couldn't quite place why anxiety gripped him; after all, just moments ago he had figured out about his passing the Entrance Examination with record-breaking scores confirmed by those very news anchors.
With trembling hands, Izuku carefully tore open the top of the letter, and something tumbled onto his lap. He nearly jolted back at the sight of a bright object glinting up at him. As he leaned closer, he realized it was a cassette but not a simple one; it was crafted from gold, shining brilliantly in the light. Sweat dampened his palms as he lifted the cassette, marveling at its unexpected beauty.
"Why are they sending cassettes?" Izuku blurted out incredulously. "This is modern times, not some medieval era."
Nemuri let out a soft giggle as she watched his reaction unfold before her. "It's not just any ordinary cassette," she replied with a kind smile. "It's a hologram messenger."
She gently took the golden cassette from his hands and circled around the couch to sit beside him. Setting it down on the tea table with care, she shook the now-empty envelope lightly. A small piece of paper slipped free and fluttered to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it and unfolded it carefully to reveal simple instructions for operating the device: just press the single button on top of the cassette.
Izuku glanced at the cassette, a knot of apprehension tightening in his stomach. Why on earth was he feeling so nervous? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he pressed the only button on the device.
In an instant, light erupted from the top of the cassette, shooting upwards toward the ceiling. Izuku's eyes widened in shock and awe as a powerful figure began to take shape within the glowing beam—the unmistakable form of All Might materialized before him.
"I AM HERE!" All Might's booming voice filled the room, reverberating off the walls like a thunderclap. "TO TEACH AT U.A. HERO ACADEMY!"
"Huh!? All Might is going to teach at U.A.?" Izuku exclaimed, his mind racing as he turned to Nemuri with wide eyes. "Did you know about this?"
Nemuri couldn't suppress her smirk; she relished in his astonishment. "Oh, I certainly did," she replied playfully, clearly enjoying every moment of Izuku's stunned expression.
"Young Midoriya," the hologram of All Might boomed, his voice ringing with unmistakable energy, "first and foremost, I want to congratulate you on your outstanding performance during the Entrance Exam. It was perhaps the bravest display I have witnessed in many years. You took down that 100-Pointer and saved countless lives among your fellow candidates. You've truly captivated me, and without a doubt, I can say you have proven yourself worthy of being here at U.A."
He continued seamlessly, "But it's not just your second-round performance that impressed us. Your results from the Written Examination were exceptional as well. You are one of the few students in U.A.'s history to achieve a perfect score of one hundred! In the second round alone, you racked up an impressive 107 minor villain points by defeating 22 1-Pointers, 20 2-Pointers, and 15 3-Pointers. On top of that, you earned an additional 100 major villain points for taking down the formidable 100-Pointer and collected another 156 Rescue points for rescuing civilians from both the minor villain bots and that same colossal foe. This brings your overall score to an astounding total of 363 points. A NEW RECORD IN U.A.'S STORIED HISTORY! So now, young Midoriya! WELCOME TO YOUR HERO ACADEMIA!"
As the hologram flickered out, All Might's impressive figure dissolved into nothingness.
"You made a new record, Izuku," Nemuri said. Her voice was filled with warmth and pride swelled in her chest. She pulled him into a tender embrace, planting a soft kiss on his crown. "I am so proud of you."
Izuku felt his cheeks heat up at the praise, and he smiled contentedly against Nemuri's shoulder. "Thank you, Nem. I couldn't have done it without your support."
Nemuri gently released him from the hug but kept her hands on his shoulders as she looked into his eyes with sparkling excitement. "Let's go eat out today," she suggested eagerly, her tone bubbling with enthusiasm.
Izuku returned her smile but shook his head lightly. "I'd rather spend the day with you just like this. Let's order something and enjoy it on our balcony instead."
With playful mischief in her eyes, Nemuri pinched his cheeks affectionately. "Arara! Does little Izu want to spend some quality time with dear ol' me?" she teased lightly, causing an embarrassed blush to spread across Izuku's face.
"I-It's not like that!" he stammered, words tumbling over one another in his flustered state.
Nemuri giggled at his reaction and finally released him from her playful hold. "I know," she replied warmly before rising to her feet gracefully. "I'll go see what we can order." With that cheerful declaration, she left the room behind, leaving Izuku alone with a heart still fluttering from their exchange.
Suddenly, Izuku's phone buzzed to life, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. He glanced down and noticed it was a text message from Katsuki.
Katsuki: Got in. Wanna meet up and celebrate?
He chuckled.
Izuku: Yeah, why not?
Katsuki: Let's go to that old cafe old lady and Aunt Inko used to take us.
Izuku: Sure.
With the text message sent, he was about to call Iida when his phone started to ring. He quickly answered the call and was greeted by the familiar, enthusiastic voice of Iida on the other end.
"Midoriya! Did you get in?" Iida shouted, his excitement almost palpable even through the phone.
Izuku couldn't help but smirk at his friend's eagerness. "Did you really think I wouldn't make it?" he replied playfully, a hint of pride creeping into his tone.
"So, you wanted to talk to me?" Nezu inquired, his gaze fixed on the figure sitting across from him on the couch, a hint of intrigue dancing in his eyes.
Toshinori Yagi sat there, shoulders slumped and hands clasped tightly together. His black-sclera eyes sparkled with an unreadable intensity as he met Nezu's curious stare. "Yes. I have a favor to ask of you."
"A favor?" Nezu arched an eyebrow at this unexpected request. "You're not typically one to seek favors from others."
"Unfortunately, I am not what I used to be," Toshinori replied, his voice heavy with grief and worry. "I find myself in need of any assistance I can get."
Nezu's interest deepened as he leaned forward slightly, spreading his hands wide in invitation for Toshinori to lay out his thoughts freely. "So, what is this favor that you want from me?"
The atmosphere shifted; Toshinori's eyes steeled with resolve as he considered the Principal before speaking again. "I know you plan for me to teach the Third Years next session. But I need your permission to also take on the new First Years."
"Let me take a guess," Nezu said, his expression thoughtful. "You've developed a keen interest in Izuku Midoriya and want to dig a little deeper."
Toshinori nodded, recognizing the accuracy of Nezu's observation. "Yes. I met the boy about a couple of weeks ago while he was cleaning up the shores at Musutafu beach. Ever since then, I've found myself interested in him."
Nezu's response came swiftly, catching Toshinori off guard. "He will not accept."
Toshinori felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. He blinked in disbelief. "What do you mean?"
"I know what you're trying to do, Toshinori," Nezu continued, casually and firmly. "But he won't take your offer."
"How can you be so sure?" Toshinori asked, frowning deeply.
Nezu leaned back slightly, grasping his hands on his lap with an air of confidence as he explained. "I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Midoriya thanks to his connection with Nemuri," he informed him lightly but with purpose. "In that time, I've come to study him closely. The boy carries his own burdens and craves neither recognition nor additional power."
"You know quite a bit about him," Toshinori pointed out.
Nezu's eyes sparkled with an intriguing light, sending a shiver down Toshinori's spine. "I've interacted with the boy to determine whether he would make a suitable successor for you. You mentioned four years ago that you were looking for a prospect, and I've had ample time to learn a few things about Mr. Midoriya."
Toshinori drew in a sharp breath, frustration creeping into his voice. "I can always try to convince him," he insisted, grasping at any flicker of hope that remained within him.
"Toshinori," Nezu said slowly, his tone becoming measured and steady. "I understand your desperation. But in your eagerness, you cannot place such heavy responsibilities on a boy who is barely in his teens."
Toshinori's head hung low, a heavy sadness weighing on him. He had been searching for a suitable successor to inherit his powers for what felt like an eternity, especially since it had become painfully clear that he could no longer function as he once did in his prime. The desperation was creeping in, eating at him; time was slipping away, and the need to pass on One-for-All to someone worthy loomed over him like a dark cloud. It was his duty as its wielder.
Nezu hopped off the couch and made his way toward the door. Just before stepping through, he paused and turned back to Toshinori with an unexpected gravity. "I will allow you to teach the First Years," he said carefully, but then his usually cheerful demeanor shifted into something more serious. "But don't try to impose your ideals or responsibilities onto that boy. I cannot promise I'll be able to shield you from the storm that may follow."
With those cautionary words hanging in the air, Nezu turned away and left Toshinori alone with his thoughts.
[10 o'clock that night...]
A cool evening breeze swept through the balcony, rustling Izuku's green hair. He gazed up at the starry sky, sitting at the round table with his cheek resting in the palm of his right hand. The night sky was clear, devoid of any clouds. The full moon shone brightly amidst the stars, casting its gentle glow onto the balcony of Nemuri's apartment. Below, city lights twinkled, mirroring the celestial display above. He traced imaginary patterns in the stars, his gaze occasionally drifting to the round table nearly full of food Nemuri had ordered over the phone.
A familiar, intoxicating scent drifted in the air, reaching his nose, followed by the unhurried, rhythmic tap of approaching footsteps. Izuku turned his head just as Nemuri stepped onto the balcony, two steaming bowls cradled in her hands. A gentle smile graced her lips, and her blue eyes gleamed under the soft moonlight. She was dressed in a gray, full-sleeve, backless cardigan, and pink hotpants that showcased her long, toned legs. As always, she looked absolutely stunning.
Izuku took a long, appreciative breath, savoring the aroma wafting from the bowls. "Mm~" he moaned, a playful excitement in his voice. "Something smells incredible," he commented.
"Alright, sweetie," Nemuri said, gently nudging Izuku's shoulder. "Make some room."
When Izuku lifted his elbow, she placed one bowl in front of him and the other opposite, before taking her own seat.
His eyes practically sparkled as he stared at the steaming bowl of katsudon. "Damn," he whistled, impressed. "You really went all in, huh?"
"Only the best for you, honey," Nemuri replied, her smile warm and genuine. "And you passed the Entrance Exam. Honestly, for that, we should be partying somewhere fancy, not cooped up here."
Izuku's smile tightened slightly. "I... just don't like crowds these days," he admitted softly, a hint of melancholy shading his tone, before his expression brightened, smile returning, a bit wider and more genuine. "And I personally think this is much, much better than blowing a fortune at some five-star hotel."
"Aw~ You're so sweet," Nemuri cooed, pressing her hands dramatically over her chest. "You know just what to say to a woman to make her heart flutter."
Izuku laughed, the sound light and carefree. "You've trained me well, Nem," he said, amusement bubbling in his voice.
"And to celebrate your big day, I've brought something else," she announced, a mischievous wink punctuating her words. She bent down, reaching for a shopping bag that had been resting beside her chair for some time. Izuku raised an eyebrow as she pulled out a large glass bottle. "Tada!" she exclaimed, brandishing the wine bottle like a prize.
Izuku's eyebrows furrowed, a mixture of disbelief and amusement crossing his face. "You know I shouldn't be having that."
"Oh, hush," Nemuri chided, pressing her right index finger to her lips in a playful shushing gesture. "You shouldn't have been doing a lot of other things too. Having a little wine is the least of your worries." She winked, a playful giggle escaping her lips. "And you know I'm a free bird."
Izuku shook his head, a blend of exasperation and amusement swirling within him. "You're a little too free, me thinks."
"Oh, mister," Nemuri pouted, feigning offense with exaggerated cuteness. "I know you love me just the way I am."
A soft smile blossomed on Izuku's face. "Yeah..." he murmured. "I love you just the way you are."
With a satisfying pop, Nemuri finally wrestled the cork free from the bottle. She poured the rich, red wine into two glasses, placing one beside Izuku's plate and the other beside her own.
"Are you sure this is going to be alright?" Izuku asked, eyeing the wine with curiosity and apprehension.
"Don't worry so much," Nemuri replied, rolling her eyes playfully. "Everything is going to be alright. But this is the only night you're allowed to drink wine, understood?"
They delved into their dinner, and what a spread it was. Nemuri had ordered a lavish assortment of dishes from one of Tokyo's top restaurants. Two trays of sushi, brimming with a variety of colorful rolls, sat next to plates of gyutan, kake soba, and yakisoba. And, the crowning jewel of the meal, Nemuri's handmade katsudon. They savored the feast in comfortable silence, the cool night breeze and the distant symphony of car horns adding to the ambiance of the night.
After finishing his portion, Izuku let out a satisfied burp, a clear indication of his full stomach. He looked up to find Nemuri watching him, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, her own wine glass held delicately in her hands. "What?" he asked, confused.
"You haven't touched your wine yet," Nemuri pointed out, gesturing towards his untouched glass with a subtle lift of her eyebrows.
"I thought I'd try it after the food," Izuku replied with a casual shrug. He reached for the glass, cradling it in his hands, and examined the deep red liquid with a discerning eye.
"First, swirl the wine like this," Nemuri instructed, drawing Izuku's attention to her. She demonstrated, swirling the wine in her glass with practiced grace. "And then take a small sip, like this." She raised the glass to her lips, the rim grazing her full, supple lips as she took a delicate sip.
Izuku mirrored her actions. He swirled the wine, five precise rotations, then raised the glass to his own lips. He took a small sip, letting the liquid linger on his tongue, savoring the complex flavors. "It tastes sweet…" he commented with a thoughtful expression on his face. "And a bit fruity."
"I chose it specifically for you," Nemuri said with a soft chuckle. "Didn't want to ruin your first time with the more... intense ones." She took another sip from her glass, the ruby liquid clinging to her lips. "Just a heads-up, don't try to gulp too much at once. You might not enjoy that."
Izuku nodded quietly and took another sip. He stole a glance at Nemuri, who was gazing out at the night sky, lost in thought. She looked absolutely breathtaking. She always did. The way the moonlight danced in her eyes, the way the glass gently touched her lips as she drank. To him, she was an ethereal vision.
"I like nights like these," Nemuri murmured, her voice light and filled with contentment. "Just my wine and the starry sky. Before you moved in, I'd spend hours out here, just me and Rainbow, a glass of wine, and the stars."
"I'm sorry," Izuku mumbled, his gaze fixed on the swirling wine in his glass.
Nemuri raised a questioning eyebrow, turning to look at him. "What for?"
"For taking up your time," Izuku replied, his eyes still downcast.
Nemuri let out a throaty laugh, a melodious sound in Izuku's ears. "You actually saved me," she assured him, a grateful smile gracing her lips. "Before you came along, I was terribly lonely. You brightened up my life, in so many ways."
Izuku glanced up, deeply touched by her words. His heart fluttered, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in his stomach.
"So, now you're off to U.A.," Nemuri commented, propping her right elbow on the table and resting her cheek in her palm, turning her body to face Izuku better. "How does that feel?"
"Like a fever dream, to be honest," Izuku answered with a shrug, taking another small sip of his wine. "I still can't believe I'm actually going to U.A. to become a Hero." He glanced at the sky, a faraway look in his eyes. "There was a time when I'd completely given up on that dream."
"Do you still think you don't deserve to be a Hero?" Nemuri asked, her soft voice barely audible above the distant hum of the bustling city.
"It's hard not to," Izuku admitted, his gaze returning to the swirling wine, "especially when you have a conscience."
"Can you tell me what you did?" Nemuri pressed gently, her expression softening with sadness. "Or is it too painful to talk about?"
"Do you remember that news about the American nuclear plant blast in Lebanon six years ago?" Izuku asked, turning his gaze away from Nemuri, unable to meet her eyes, shame and guilt radiated off him in waves.
Nemuri's expression turned grim. She nodded slowly, remembering the news all too well. It had caused a global uproar. The official reports blamed a quirk-powered terrorist group, claiming it was a direct challenge to the United States and Europe. The resulting blast had prompted immediate action from the United Nations and NATO, who swiftly moved in to secure the area and crush the burgeoning terrorist cell.
"That wasn't caused by a terrorist group," Izuku stated, his words sending a shiver of ice down Nemuri's spine. Her eyes widened in stunned disbelief. It was an enormous claim for him to make. "There was never a terrorist group," Izuku continued, his voice hollow and devoid of emotion.
"W-What do you mean?" Nemuri stammered, the question a mixture of disbelief and rising dread.
"Let's just say..." Izuku glanced at Nemuri, his heart heavy with guilt, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his confession. "I was part of a mission to destabilize a country and its people. But...well..."
"Izuku..." Nemuri breathed, taking a deep, unsteady breath. "I think you should stop talking."
Izuku nodded, a faint tremor in his hand as he wiped a small trickle of blood from his nose. "I know..." he whispered, yet easily carried to Nemuri. "It's strange, when you think about it," he murmured with a faraway look in his eyes. "Someone who took such extreme precautions to ensure her secrets remained buried... and yet, I can still recount my crimes to this extent before the repercussions kick in. Makes you wonder if their power is weakening now that I'm away from them, or if something else entirely is at play."
"I think we should change the subject," Nemuri suggested gently, her voice slightly strained. "We were supposed to be enjoying the night, remember? So, let's enjoy," she declared, before dramatically chugging the entire contents of her wine glass in one go.
Izuku watched, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as she downed the wine and then released a satisfied sigh, clearly relishing the way the liquid felt in her mouth and throat. She promptly refilled her glass. "Can I ask you something?" he ventured, a hesitant note in his voice.
"Sure, go on," she replied with a casual shrug, swirling the wine in her newly filled glass.
"You said something four years ago, that your quirk doesn't make things easy for you," Izuku recalled, his brow furrowing in thought. "I've always wondered what you meant by that. I mean, I understand the basics of how your quirk works."
Nemuri sighed, a hint of surprise in her voice. "You remember that," she remarked, sounding genuinely astonished. She set down her wine glass and cradled her face in her hands, palms pressed against her cheeks. "Well, my quirk is one of those... peculiar ones. You'll encounter plenty of them when you start your Hero journey at U.A."
"Really?" Izuku quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, my quirk is directly tied to my sex hormones," Nemuri revealed, resignation creeping into her tone.
Izuku's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Sex hormones?"
"Mm-hm," Nemuri nodded, confirming his question. "The scent my quirk produces is directly linked to my sex hormones. The more sexually charged I am, the stronger the scent, and the faster my opponents fall asleep. Basically, if I get aroused during a fight, my quirk's potency increases significantly. So, I have to maintain a certain level of arousal when I'm on duty. That is also why men are more prone to my quirk than women."
"Damn, that sounds... challenging," Izuku remarked, his lips curling in distaste.
Nemuri shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "Well, it's a good thing I'm naturally perverted, then," she said casually, completely unbothered by the implications. "If you want to pity someone, pity that Rabbit Heroine. I hear she goes through heat every year."
"Every day makes me grateful for my quirks," Izuku admitted, taking a sip from his wine glass. "What's the weirdest one you've seen in action?" he inquired, his gaze filled with genuine curiosity.
"Hm~" Nemuri hummed, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "There's this doctor I met once whose breast milk has incredible healing properties. Like, it can even repair nerve damage which is supposed to be impossible. I remember hearing through the grapevine that she cured a girl who had lost all the functions of her legs."
"Really?" Izuku muttered, his eyes squinting in utter disbelief. "The worst I saw was this guy who could explode his fingernails... but only while they were still attached to his hands."
"What?" Nemuri's eyebrows shot up. A chuckle of pity escaped her lips as she said, "That is definitelyworse."
Silence returned on the balcony, only the distant sound of car present. Nemuri then released a deep sigh as a wistful expression settled on her face. "Uh~ I hope you find someone special at U.A.," she commented, before downing the second glass of wine with practiced ease. "It can get lonely as you grow older, and your friends start drifting apart because of work and life."
"Speaking of which, I've always wondered something," Izuku said, studying Nemuri with open curiosity. "Why haven't you ever dated anyone? Or did I somehow disrupt your dating life?"
Nemuri shrugged in a helpless gesture. "I never really felt the urge to pursue anything serious or long-term," she answered honestly. "I'm a free spirit, and I was content with my life. Settling down was the absolute last thing on my mind."
"And yet, you're the one who wants me to find someone to settle down with," Izuku pointed out, squinting at her in mock exasperation.
"Hahaha!" Nemuri burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained. "That's because I want what's best for you." She grinned at him, a mischievous glint sparkling in her eyes.
"Best for me?" Izuku raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Or do you want more opportunities to embarrass me even further."
Nemuri's head jerked back as she let out a loud laugh. After managing to bring herself under control, she said softly, "You're a good boy, Izuku. Someone like you deserves to find love. I'm sure you'll find someone who will love you, and whom you can love in return."
"Love, huh..." Izuku whispered, the word laced with a deep sadness. He released a slow, shaky breath. "I... don't think I'm capable of loving anyone."
Nemuri was shocked to hear that. "Why do you say that?"
With a wistful, resigned smile, Izuku replied, "Because I don't think I deserve love. And let's be honest, someone with my history should not even dare to fall in love with anyone."
"Izuku…" Nemuri muttered, sadness creeping in her voice. "I think you're being too harsh on yourself."
"Harsh?" Izuku chuckled, the sound hollow and weightless. "I think I am not being harsh enough on myself. I can try to convince myself as much as I want that if I become a Hero, I can repent for my sins. But let's be honest, you cannot change the past and neither can me being a Hero ever return a population to what it was before."
Nemuri rose from her chair and moved towards Izuku. She gently pulled his head towards her, cradling it against her stomach, and wrapped her arms around him in a warm, comforting embrace. "It's going to be alright. I'm sure you'll get over it as you grow up, and find someone perfect for you."
Suddenly, Izuku felt all his worries leave his mind. He closed his eyes and just stayed in her arms, enjoying the peaceful silence and calmness that her touch provided him. He did not know if he deserved love or not, but if Nemuri wanted him to find love then he would make sure to do his best to find someone he could love and someone who could love him back.
Izuku waited at the train station entrance, dressed casually today. He wore a soft, heather-grey cotton T-shirt, one of his plain ones without the usual hero slogans or faces. Layered over it was a lightweight, forest-green overshirt, left unbuttoned. It featured two neat breast pockets with flap closures secured by small, matte-black snaps, and he'd rolled the sleeves neatly just below his elbows.
Dark indigo denim jeans covered his legs, a modern slim-straight cut—not skinny, but tailored enough to avoid looking baggy. His signature high-top sneakers added a vibrant splash of almost-cherry red canvas. He kept accessories simple: just a functional analog watch with a dark resin strap. (Secretly, it was a gift from Nezu for his thirteenth birthday; checking the price had nearly made him faint.)
Izuku glanced at the watch: 10:10 AM, five minutes before their meeting time. Maybe he hadn't needed to rush leaving home after all. He didn't wait long, though. A familiar presence entered his sensory range: Bakugo. Looking left, Izuku saw him walking over.
Bakugo wore a form-fitting, deep charcoal grey tank top under a slightly oversized zip-up hoodie emblazoned with "PUNK" on the chest. Jet-black jeans and sturdy, brown leather boots completed the look. He had his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, his usual scowl firmly in place until it softened slightly upon seeing Izuku.
"Izuku," he greeted curtly.
"Kacchan," Izuku greeted back.
"Call me Katsuki."
"No way, Kacchan."
"I'll kill you."
"You can try."
"Fuck you."
"Don't swing that way."
They held each other's gaze for a moment before Izuku broke into a smile, and a rough chuckle escaped Bakugo.
"You doing well?" Bakugo asked.
Izuku shrugged. "I mean," he said, "I got into U.A. I'd better do well, right?"
They fell into a comfortable pace, heading for the café where their mothers once shared tea and gossip. Back then, Bakugo and Izuku weren't exactly on the best terms; Bakugo barely tolerated Izuku, while Izuku saw him as the greatest thing since All Might. Now, they were going there to reminisce and discuss the future.
"What class were you assigned to?" Izuku asked.
"1-B," answered Bakugo. "What about you?"
"1-A."
"Nice." Bakugo paused for a beat. "Vlad King told me my result. Didn't know they assigned pros to do that stuff. Kinda lame. Who told you yours?"
Izuku's smile wavered for a moment, but Bakugo thankfully didn't notice. "Ms. Midnight," he lied. He didn't want to risk telling Bakugo that All Might himself had delivered the news and cause the other boy to completely lose it. Bakugo, if Izuku remembered correctly, was an even bigger All Might fanboy than he was.
"Was she dressed properly?" Bakugo asked suddenly, glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye. "Like, her new Hero Costume or… something else?"
"That's not cool to say about a Pro, Kacchan," Izuku warned, his jaw tight. "And for the record, she was dressed completely professionally."
"Meh," Bakugo shrugged. "Pretty sure she wouldn't mind."
Izuku took a deep breath to calm himself. He could usually ignore insults thrown his way, but never when they were aimed at Nemuri or his mom. The only reason he wasn't tearing into Bakugo right then was because they were childhood friends, and he didn't want to ruin their outing.
At the café, they ordered coffees and pastries, then spent ten minutes arguing over who would pay before settling it with a game of rock-paper-scissors. Izuku won. They talked mostly about what they'd been up to over the past ten years, though neither shared anything too personal. It was obvious the decade of silence had created some distance between them.
Neither noticed how quickly three hours flew by. Izuku spent much of the conversation teasing Bakugo about his decisions, while Bakugo fired back, mocking Izuku's situation; neither realizing just how wrong their assumptions about the other were.
"1 PM?" Izuku checked his watch, surprised. "Feels like we just got here five minutes ago."
"Got somewhere to be at three," Bakugo stated. "Mind if we wrap this up?"
"No, it's fine," Izuku said, standing up. Bakugo followed suit.
Izuku paid the bill at the counter, and they stepped outside the café.
"Let's hit the cemetery," Bakugo suggested, his tone softening slightly as he glanced skyward. "Haven't visited Aunt Inko in a while."
"You visit my mother's grave?" Izuku asked, feeling both disbelief and a pang of sadness.
Bakugo shrugged. "Sometimes. When I have nothing better to do."
They headed towards the cemetery, stopping at a flower shop on the way where they both bought bouquets. Izuku noted curiously that Bakugo bought two instead of one. Maybe visiting another relative?he wondered.
Soon, they stood before Inko Midoriya's grave. The headstone looked just as he remembered. He hadn't visited much since moving in with Nemuri, deciding it was better to focus on the future and honor his mother's memory by living well, not dwelling on the past.
They placed their flowers gently before the stone.
"She would've been proud of you," Bakugo said, staring at the headstone, his usual harshness gone and instead a melancholic gaze settled on his face.
"I wonder about that a lot," Izuku replied, his own expression somber. "I haven't done anything yet to make her truly proud. But… I like to think she's watching, knowing I'm doing my best."
"That's all we can do, right?" Bakugo murmured.
"I was thinking about visiting Aunt Mitsuki," Izuku said. "Apologize for disappearing like that. Think she'll be free today?"
"She's always free these days," Bakugo replied, a strange edge to his voice. He turned and started walking deeper into the cemetery.
"Where are you going?" Izuku called after him.
"Just over here."
Izuku followed, looking around as an uneasy weight settled in his chest. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
"Hey, seriously, where are we going?" Izuku asked again.
"You don't have to follow," Bakugo responded without turning.
Izuku frowned. "Come on. I thought I'd walk with you to the station. Need some privacy?"
"Nah," Bakugo said. "Follow if you want."
Izuku fell silent and trailed after Bakugo. Bakugo took a right at a four-way path, walked past a few more graves, then turned left. Izuku stopped beside him. When his gaze fell upon the nearby headstone, his eyes shot wide, the blood turned to ice in his veins, and all color drained from his face.
Engraved on the stone was a name he never, ever expected to see there.
Mitsuki Bakugo
Loving mother, wife, and friend
May her soul rest in peace
24XX–24XX
"What?" Izuku stammered, unable to believe it. "What the fuck is this?" he demanded, voice shaking and body trembling.
"What do you think it is, Izuku?" Bakugo said. His voice was heavy with regret, self-loathing, and bitterness. "This is the old lady's resting place."
"What do you mean, resting place?" Izuku questioned frantically. "This doesn't make sense! What happened to her?"
Bakugo didn't answer for several seconds. Just as Izuku thought he'd have to ask again, Bakugo spoke, low but clear. "I happened, Izuku."
Izuku's brow furrowed deeply. "Huh?"
Bakugo turned his head towards Izuku, his lips twisting into a broken, hollow smile unlike anything Izuku had ever seen. "I'm the one who dug her grave, Izuku. I killed her."
Izuku returned home two hours later, the conversation at the cemetery still echoing in his mind. He was reeling, struggling to believe what he'd heard. How could he even begin to process this information, let alone understand it?
Aunt Mitsuki was dead? How? Why? Bakugo had only told him he killed her, but what did that even mean? The whole thing felt surreal, making him nauseous. He needed to lie down for a bit.
Izuku trudged toward his room, passing the living room on his way. Nemuri sat on the couch, her cat—Rainbow—curled on her lap. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed his downtrodden expression.
"You alright, sweetie?" she asked.
Izuku offered a reassuring smile, but it never quite reached his eyes. "I am, Nem. Just want to lie down for a bit."
Nemuri nodded, understanding. She knew Izuku had gone out to meet a childhood friend. Had their meeting gone poorly? Had it somehow created more problems between them?
"There was a small package for you," Nemuri informed him. "I placed it on your desk."
"Really?" Izuku muttered. He never received packages. If Iida wanted to give him something, he usually did so at school. "Do you know who sent it?"
"No," Nemuri said, shaking her head. "There was no sender's address. Just your name written on the package."
"I see." A confused frown appeared on Izuku's face.
He entered his room, closing the door behind him. He pulled off his shirt and t-shirt, tossing them into the laundry basket. It was his turn for laundry today. Walking over to his desk, he noticed the small package wrapped in brown paper.
It wasn't large, quite small actually, only slightly bigger than his hand. He picked it up, testing its weight. Light, he noted in his mind. He carefully tore away the brown paper, dropping the scraps into the bin.
As he unwrapped it, a small piece of paper fluttered onto his desk. He picked it up. All it said was:
'Congratulations on entering U.A. A small present from your well-wisher.'
Izuku looked down at the object left in his hands. The package had contained a diary of sorts. It looked old and worn, as if it belonged to another time. The cover was peeling, revealing the hardcover beneath, and the pages were yellowed with age. Izuku opened the diary. Written on the first page was: